Page 34 of When the Stars Rise

Two members of her security team accompany us to the elevator.

The doors glide open, and when we step inside, Hayley and I move to the back and watch each other in the reflection of the doors without saying a word.

The doors open again on the next floor to let more people in, and I instinctively move closer to Hayley, a human shield to protect her.

Chris and Brian, a stout balding man on her security team step in front of her to block their view as Hales slips on a pair of oversized sunglasses and lowers her head, hoping to go unnoticed.

With me, she willnevergo unnoticed. You could drop me into the middle of a crowd of thousands, and my gaze would home in on her. It wouldn’t matter if she were in disguise or wearing a full Hazmat suit. I would find her.

I clasp her hand in mine and interlace our fingers, more out of habit than anything else, but if she can’t see how perfectly we fit together, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, then what the fuck am I even doing here?

When I lean in, I hear her breath hitch as my lips ghost the shell of her ear. “You wore that dress in Cabo. It looked good on you, but it looked even better on the floor.”

I straighten up and look straight ahead, but from the corner of my eye, I see her frown, and then a blush creeps up her neck and stains her cheeks a pretty shade of pink.

I avert my head to hide the smirk as we exit the elevator into the lobby of the Soho Grand. Cool place. Great soundtrack. There’s a resident DJ spinning vinyl, and outside the doors, New York City beckons so I let go of Hayley’s hand, and waltz right out the front door without looking back.

Job done.

If I know Hayley, she’ll spend the whole night thinking about us in Cabo.

“Dude. I don’t know what to tell you. First the kiss, and now she’s hanging with her ex…” Bodhi lets out a low whistle.

I’m standing in Washington Square Park listening to a busker singing Bob Dylan’s “I Threw It All Away.” The guy’s got a guitar and a harmonica, and he could be singing directly to me. That’s how hard it hits.

I’m the one who ruined us, and I’m the one who has to fix it. But I’m doing a shitty job of it.

“Sounds like you’re fucked,” he concludes.

“Appreciate the support.” I toss a twenty into the busker’s guitar case, and he gives me the peace sign as I walk away and exit the park.

It’s a perfect almost summer evening, the air balmy and the sky inky. Earlier, I met up with another YouTuber who has a cooking channel. Justin Wu lives in New York but travels all over the world, sampling local street food and cooking with some of the country’s top chefs.

We did a mini-food tour of New York on electric scooters—adobo quesadillas at Chelsea Market, dim sum in Chinatown, and Korean barbecue in K-Town.

Afterward, I wandered around the city and took photos of the Hayley Saint James billboard lit by neon lights in Times Square.

“Have you told her about Norway yet?” Bodhi asks.

I grab my collar like it’s choking me and roll out my shoulders as I walk down a cobblestone street in Soho past trendy boutiques and sidewalk cafés teeming with people. “Not yet.”

“Double fucked,” he says.

Yeah, he’s probably right. “I’ll tell her when we get back to LA. I don’t want to stress her out while she’s on tour.”

“Solid plan,” Bodhi says. “Wait until she’s emotionally and physically drained, and then dump it on her.”

He’s quiet for a beat, and I hear a girl’s voice in the background asking if he has any clean towels. Chances are that he doesn’t.

Sure enough, he tells her to use one of the dark green ones.

“You’d better wash my towels before I get back,” I tell him.

“You’re in charge of the laundry. Sage is in charge of cooking. And I’m in charge of boosting morale.” I roll my eyes. “So what makes you think this time will be different for you and Hales?”

Valid question. Unfortunately, I don’t have an answer. Except for the obvious, of course. “Because we belong together. Always have. Always will.”

I’m passing a French restaurant when someone calls my name. “I’ll catch you later. And wash my towels,” I tell Bodhi, retracing my steps to a sidewalk table under a striped awning.